


Late night Listen

by Eshisakka



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Ficlet, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Introspection, The disks, Toby Smith | Tubbo-centric, Unreliable Narrator, cause tubbo blames himself :'(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eshisakka/pseuds/Eshisakka
Summary: Tubbo decides to listen to a disk. It hurts.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Kudos: 28





	Late night Listen

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm here with angst. This is a real short one, and has no resolution, sorry, I just wanted to write Tubbo hurting for a bit ;;; this boy must be doing so bad.....  
> But yeah, here it is :')

It was the first day of the year, and Tubbo was sitting on the bench, alone in the morning dark, a blanket still wrapped around himself. A semblance of warmth against the chill running through his bones. A comfort against the constricting feeling around his heart, so tangible it almost physically hurt. He didn't think it helped.

It was the first day of the year, and Tubbo was too tired to cry.

He was never too big of a crier. Sure, things sometimes got overwhelming, but most of the time he held himself together quite well, and he prided himself in that. He was the calm one. The logical one. He… He was strong. Despite being labelled as a sidekick for so long, he was strong, and he could be a leader, and he could… he could do just well on his own. He could- he could…

_God._

His chest felt far too tight, so much he struggled to breathe. He clutched the disk in his hand, not minding how the edge of it dug into his palm painfully. Slowly, he relaxed his grasp, holding the disk up and watching the moonlight reflect upon it. Slowly, he reached out, and input it into the jukebox.

Slowly, the familiar tune filtered in. Sounding just the same as it had any other time.

So why did it hurt so much to listen to now?

…No, He knew why. He was absolutely aware, he _knew._ He knew. And the reason reverberated in his brain, buzzing, stinging, his heart thumping against his ribs as he clutched his shirt.

He knew it was cause Tommy wasn't here.

It was… _their_ disk. Not… not just Tommy's. And… Now he wasn't here.

He _wasn't here_.

Tubbo's own voice echoed, loud and angry, telling him the disks don't matter. Tommy's voice, loud and angry, added on, telling him he was a monster. Tubbo's hands, tangled in his shirt and blanket, began to shake. And the cold must be catching up to him, cause as time went on, his whole body did, too.

Tubbo was a monster. Tommy didn't want him.

_Tommy didn't want him._

His heart felt like shattering, flashing between cold and hot, weak and loud in his ears, too big between his bones, too full. Too tense. Too hurt. It hurt. It hurt _so much, he just wanted it to stop_.

He just wanted his best friend back.

But there were so many miles between them. And Tommy's eyes, full of hatred, was still plastered against his eyelids. And the stillness of his form, as he stared back at him, as Tubbo tried to reach out, until finally leaving without a word of reassurance, broke him.

He wanted Tommy back… he wanted to hold him, to feel his strong arms around him, to cling onto him in horrible nights like these, to have quiet talks as they both fell asleep, to wake up and take him by the hand and bring him to another adventure, to follow him around as he caused mischief, to break him out of trouble, to laugh until his guts hurt from his jokes, to see him grin, to see him smile. To see him look at him kindly, open despite how much he hated displaying affection, with a promise that they'll stick together no matter what. With soft tones in the background, and the warm glow of the setting sun. A peace among the chaos. A joy among the despair.

But Tommy was gone. His light was gone. Now all that was left was the broken record, so strange to hear without him there, as he sat alone in their spot, even the rays of the moon disappearing as the sky filled with mist. It was so dark and so cold and so very lonely.

Tommy wasn't here.

And Tubbo was the only one to blame.

**Author's Note:**

> That last line isn't true, btw, ofc, just... Tubbo's not doing great,,,, :"")


End file.
